Magnetic Particle Testing Jokes

A good Magnetic Particle inspector has a field of expertise and a strong sense of direction.

A yoke is only interested in longitudinal relationships.

Prods are great for starting conversations. Unfortunately, so are arc strikes.

Magnetic particles are gossips. They gather wherever there's a leak.

Demagnetizing taught me patience. You can't force a part to forget. You have to walk it away slowly.

A residual field is just magnetism that refuses to move on.

Fluorescent particles are the life of the party, but only if someone turns the lights off first.

A central conductor does all the work and lets the part take the credit for the circular field.

Dry powder is the introvert of magnetic particles. Blow on it and it leaves the party.

The pie field indicator doesn't taste good, but it gives you a slice of information.

Fluorescent Magnetic Particle Testing is a bright idea in a dark booth.

At a crack, the part's field leaks out. It's finally letting its guard down.

Why did the yoke produce such a weak field in the part?

What do you call a part that can't let go of the past?

Why did the fluorescent particles refuse to work in daylight?

Why does Magnetic Particle Testing prefer a crack across the field?

How do you say goodbye to a magnetic field?

Why do Magnetic Particle inspectors make terrible secret agents?

How many Magnetic Particle inspectors does it take to change a lightbulb?

What did the inspector say to the steel bar that kept picking up paper clips?

What did the bath say to the particles that were settling out?

Why do prods need firm contact before the current comes on?

What did the crack say when the particles piled up on it?

In Magnetic Particle Testing, everything attracts attention, but only some of it is relevant.

Nothing clings like a part that was never demagnetized.

The ten-pound lift test is the closest a Magnetic Particle inspector gets to the gym.

A part with magnetic writing is the only part that's good at leaving notes.

A nonrelevant indication is just a particle having a conversation that doesn't concern you.

A wet particle bath is the only soup I would ever test with a settling tube.

In a UV-A booth, nothing shines like the lint on your own sleeve.

Never argue with a magnetic field. It has two poles and no interest in compromise.

Visible particles show up in daylight. Fluorescent ones need a dark room to feel noticed.

You might be a Magnetic Particle inspector if your favorite place in the world is a dark booth with a UV-A lamp.

You might be a Magnetic Particle inspector if you've ever stuck a screwdriver to your clipboard just to check.

You might be a Magnetic Particle inspector if you've explained longitudinal versus circular magnetization to a spouse who just wanted to watch television.

You might be a Magnetic Particle inspector if the first thing you do with a new tool is check it for residual magnetism.

You might be a Magnetic Particle inspector if your wristwatch has been magnetized at least once and you still wear it to the job.

The inspector found a long, bright indication on a shaft. She marked it, photographed it, and was drafting the report when a coworker leaned in and pulled a paper clip off the part. 'Nice crack,' he said. She rewrote the report. The paper clip has been on her checklist ever since.

In his first week in the Magnetic Particle booth, the Level II told the new hire that the black light would reveal everything. It did: the lint on his shirt, the coffee on his boots, and a corner of the part he'd forgotten to clean. 'Ah,' said the Level II. 'Now you understand the process.'

The Level III asked the trainee what to do after Magnetic Particle Testing. 'Demagnetize,' she said. 'Then?' 'Clean the part.' 'Then?' She looked down. Her clipboard was stuck to the part. 'Demagnetize before I leave,' she said. 'And maybe before I start, too.'

Every morning the inspector ran a settling test on the wet bath before the first part. The new hire asked why. 'Because the bath can't tell me it's tired,' she said. 'The tube can.'

On night shift, an inspector spent forty minutes chasing an indication that moved every time she wiped the part. It turned out to be a firefly that had wandered into the booth and decided the UV-A lamp was the best party in town.

Leakage Field (n.): The only leak the customer is glad you found.

Residual Field (n.): A magnetized part's way of saying, 'I'll never forget you.'

Particle Concentration (n.): The one number in the bath that is always discovered to be wrong right before the audit.

Black Light (n.): A UV-A lamp that makes indications glow, white socks glow, and the inspector's dignity dim.

Prods (n.): Two handheld electrodes that create a circular field and, occasionally, a lesson about arc strikes.

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Yoke.
Yoke who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Particle.
Particle who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Coil.
Coil who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Fluorescent.
Fluorescent who?

Dark booth, black light glow.
A bright line along the weld.
Or maybe just lint.

A steel bar with a field far too strong
Kept the washers and bolts all day long.
It collected a spoon,
Then a clipboard by noon,
And the boss said, 'Something is wrong.'

Clean the part, then add the field,
Let the particles be revealed.
If the line is sharp and clear,
Mark it down, the crack is here.

Part leaves the machine,
still holding on to its field.
Wrench sticks to it too.

Are you a crack at ninety degrees to my field? Because you've got all my particles gathering around you.

Are you fluorescent? Because you light up when the right wavelength hits you.

Are you a residual field? Because I'm never going to get over you.

Nobody warns you that the hardest part of Magnetic Particle Testing is finding a clean part to inspect.

Ever notice that someone always switches the booth light on at the exact moment you've finally adapted to the dark?

The Magnetic Particle Testing crew was great at their job. They were really drawn to it.

Magnetic domains are just tiny crowds.

Why did the magnet win every argument?

Magnetic field lines never cross. Finally, a crowd that follows the rules.

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Gauss.
Gauss who?

I failed Magnetic Particle Testing the first time. The second time I was more attracted to the material.

At 2 a.m. on a refinery turnaround, the crew lead asked how the Magnetic Particle Testing was going. 'Third weld of forty,' I said. Then the crew lead asked what day it was. Neither of us knew, so we settled on 'night shift.'